


The Tree

by TillerFiller95



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, childhood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TillerFiller95/pseuds/TillerFiller95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you like climbing this tree so much?"</p>
<p>In a quiet voice he said, "Because he can't get to me up here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tree

I met Ryan Ross the summer I moved from Austin, Texas to Las Vegas, Nevada when I was nine years old. My parents were divorced and my mom wanted a fresh start. When her job wanted to transfer her, she jumped at the chance. Ryan was two years younger than me, but he seemed to know so much more about this world. He knew just how ugly it could be, even at the age of seven. 

We were next door neighbors. I remember I would always hear screaming coming from their house, usually from a man. His father. He yelled a lot. Sometimes we'd hear screams coming from a woman, his mom, but these screams were different. Not angry or booming like the man's, but scared and pained. My mom even had to call the cops on them some nights. 

There were a lot of kids on our street and I made friends pretty quickly. They told me my neighbors, The Ross', had a son but he never came outside much. They said he was weird. They never invited him to play ball or catch tadpoles in the creek with us. 

The first time I met him, he was crying. I was walking through the wooded area behind my house, on my way to the creek to meet my friends. I didn't notice him until I heard sniffling. I had to look up to see him. There he was, sitting on a tree branch about ten feet up in the air. He had his eyes shut, leaning his head on the trunk of the oak tree.

"Are you stuck?" I asked. He let out a gasp, head shooting up, as if my voice had scared him. He looked down at me and just stared for a moment until he finally shook his head no. "Why are you cryin' then?"

"My parents," He said in a small voice. "Are fighting."

I could remember hearing yelling coming from the Ross household when I was walking over. 

"What's your name?" I asked. 

"Ryan Ross."

"I'm Dan Keyes. I live right beside you."

"Oh." He wiped his eyes. He wasn't crying anymore. His face was red and I remember how sad he looked. He always looked sad. 

"I'm going to the creek to catch tadpoles. Wanna come?" 

He looked like he was considering it until I told him my friends were there. Then he said, "N-No thanks."

I couldn't understand why he'd rather stay up in a tree alone then play in the creek with us. I shrugged and left without saying goodbye. When I got to the creek, I told everyone about the encounter with Ryan. "Told you he was weird," Shane said. He lived right across the street from me. He was in my grade and I never really liked him that much. He was so snotty and thought he was better than us because his parents had money. His dad was the Senator and his mom owned a bakery. When we were sixteen, his father got arrested for embezzlement.

After a rather disappointing afternoon of trying, and failing, to catch tadpoles, I went back home. Ryan was gone by the time I got back. I checked.

 

A few days later, I saw Ryan sitting in his backyard. He wasn't doing anything. Just sitting.

"Wanna play catch?" I asked. He didn't respond at first, until I asked again. He turned his head, seeming to realize I was talking to him. He looked confused.

I picked up the football I'd left laying out and pulled my arm back to throw it. He quickly got to his feet and awkwardly held his hands up. I tossed it over to him. He flinched last second and the ball sailed past him.

"S-Sorry," He stuttered out. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he ran over to where the ball had landed. He gripped it, frowned, and adjusted his stance. When he threw it, it landed no where close to me. He looked like he wanted to cry and apologized again.

"Didn't your dad ever teach you how to throw?" I asked him when I went to retrieve the ball.

"N-No, not really," Ryan said, rubbing his arm nervously. "I-I mean, I asked him once b-but he got mad."

I thought that was strange, but I didn't comment on it. "It's not hard," I told him. "Come here." He did. I handed him the ball and showed him how to hold it. "When you throw it, step into it like this." I demonstrated with an imaginary ball. He was still frowning, appearing nervous and scared. "It's not hard," I told him once more and jogged across the yard.

He threw the ball like how I showed him but it still went way to the left. He started to apologize again, but I said, "It's alright. You'll get the hang of it." I picked it up and got ready to throw it. "Don't be afraid of it, ok?" He nodded. I threw it. It slipped through his hands and hit his chest. He yelped in pain. "Sorry, you ok?" I asked worriedly.

"Y-Yeah," He grabbed the ball from the ground.

It took a while, but he started to get the hang of it. If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say he was even having fun. We tossed it back and forth until my mom came out to call me in for lunch. She looked surprised when she saw Ryan.

"Oh, honey, are you going to introduce me to your little friend?"

"Mama, this is Ryan. He lives next door." My mom's smile faltered and she smoothed down her sun dress.

"Well, Ryan, it's nice to meet you. Come on, Daniel. It's time for lunch."

"Can Ryan come eat with us?" I said without even asking if Ryan wanted to. I couldn't understand why she was so hesitant.

"Sure, if it's ok with his mother."

I looked at Ryan exspectantly. He ran inside to ask, and my mother grabbed my arm, quietly saying, "Sweetie, I don't want you going over to his house, ok?"

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

Ryan came back and said his mother said yes. My mom had made grilled cheese and tomato soup. She'd only made two sandwiches, one for me and one for her, but let Ryan have hers while she made another. Ryan scarfed his food down quickly, like he hadn't eaten in days. He was so skinny though, that I even thought maybe he hadn't. My mom tried asking him questions like how old he was or how long his family had lived there. Ryan's answers were short and he spoke quietly, in a near whisper. Mom eventually stopped trying.

After lunch, Ryan and I went back outside to play more, but an hour later, a man with a huge helly and an angry scowl came out. Ryan's father. He yelled at Ryan to get inside. Ryan dropped the ball and rushed over. The man yanked him in the house and slammed the door, screaming something about chores. I didn't see him again for a couple days. He was in the tree again, and he had bruises on his arms. 

We became pretty close friends over the next couple years. He never talked about the bruises he seemed to acquire every few weeks, and I never asked. 

I remember the day his mom left. I was eleven, and he was nine. The night before, there was loud screaming coming from their house, nothing unusual. The next morning, I found Ryan in the woods up in the tree. He went up there a lot, I'd noticed, and a lot of the times he'd have fresh bruises. 

I'd only asked him about the tree once. "Why do you like climbing this tree so much?"

In a quiet voice he said, "Because he can't get to me up here."

When I found him that day, he had a black eye. I didn't ask what happened. By that point, I'd already figured it out. 

I silently climbed up to the branch below him. I came up here so often to get him that I started to claim this as _our_ tree. 

"My mom left," He said, his voice cracking. "She left me. With him."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. Ryan started to cry. I wasn't sure how to comfort him, if he could even be comforted, so I just told him it would all be ok. At that time, I really believed that. I don't think he ever did. 

After his mom left, it only got worse. There was even more yelling and I'd find Ryan in that tree more often with new bruises each time.

 

When I was fiteen, and he was thirteen, we started to drift apart. I was in high school and I was spending more time with my other friends. My mom always asked about Ryan though. She liked him, but I think she was also worried about him. She knew about his dad. She always asked about the bruises and he'd tell her it was an accident. She never believed him. Once, she told me she was going to call DSS, but I told her not to get involved. 

I did see Ryan every once in a while up there in his tree. 

One day over Christmas break of my sophomore year, I went to talk to him. It'd been a few months since we'd last spoken and I'll admit I missed him. A lot, actually. 

He didn't say anything as I climbed up. He didn't even look at me. "It's cold," I said. He was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. 

"Is it?" He'd replied in a monotone. 

"Well, you're shivering so I'd say yes." I took off my jacket and handed it to him, leaving me in just a flannel. Ryan didn't put it on, but instead just held it in his lap. "How are you?" I asked. 

"I'm ok."

"How's your dad?"

"Drunk." He spoke with such bitterness.

I felt like such a shitty person. I'd abandoned Ryan, left him to deal with his dad on his own. I knew he didn't have a lot of other friends, or any other friends really. He was all alone in dealing with this shit.

I offered him a cigarette one of my older friends bought for me and he took it. I lit mine and handed him the lighter. Ryan was still shaking as he struggled to light up his. 

"Put on the damn jacket before you freeze to death." 

He did. It went quiet. 

We'd both finished our cigarettes before he spoke again. "Sometimes I just want to run away," Ryan said softly, staring off into the distance. As if he were trying to find something. Something better. "I hate it here."

"It's all going to be ok," I told him. This time, I wasn't sure if I believed it like I did a few years back. "Wanna stay the night?"

"Yes."

 

Ryan's freshman year, my junior, we became closer than ever. I never invited him to hang out with me and my friends though, only because I knew Ryan didn't want to. He felt uncomfortable in larges groups, especially when the people in that group hated him. I never understood why they didn't like Ryan. They didn't even know him. 

Still, I never brought him around. We'd only hang out alone, usually at my house. We'd smoke or watch TV or just talk. Ryan never talked about the bullying though. But I knew. I heard what people said about him. What people did. 

One day, I found him in the hall between classes close to tears. He was staring at his locker, and I saw why. In crooked handwriting, someone had written the word **_fag_  **in sharpie. 

There were rumors going around that he was gay. He never talked to me about it, but I sometimes wondered. Ryan was scrawny, with feminine features. Big, doe eyes, small lips, and a button nose. He was beautiful actually. He was also shy and timid, an easy target. Ryan got enough shit at home. He didn't need any at school. 

Ryan didn't deserve this.

Some kids walked past and snickered. One of them bumped into Ryan, sending him crashing into the lockers. He winced and held his side. 

That was the final straw. 

I grabbed the guy by his shirt and threw him into the wall. I normally wasn't a violent person, but I was seeing red."Dude, what the fuck?" He exclaimed. 

Ryan grabbed my arm and wordlessly shook his head. I let the kid go and he hurried off. I watched him go.

"Wanna skip?" I asked. 

"Yes."

 

That same year, I learned Ryan was hurting himself. I found him in the tree with a razor blade, his left arm covered in blood. 

"Ryan, come here." I said gently. 

He was crying as he climbed down. I took the blade from his shaking hand and threw it as far as I could. 

"I'm sorry," He croaked.

I wrapped my arms around him and let him cry into my chest. He was clinging to me, fisting the back of my shirt tightly. "No more," I think I said. 

"Can I stay that night?"

"Of course."

 

Ryan came to my graduation. He sat with my family and went out to lunch with us afterwards. That night, I went to a party with my friends and I didn't get back until two in the morning. I sent Ryan a text and asked if he was still up. 

**_"Tree"_** Was his reply.

I found him sitting up there was a bottle of jack and a freshly bruised cheek. I climbed up to the branch under him. 

"You shouldn't be drinking."

"Why? Because of my dad?"

I took the bottle from him. He didn't fight it. I turned it upside down and poured out all the alcohol. Once it was empty, I tossed it away. He muttered something like, "Litterbug," and then, "I can't take it anymore, Dan. I can't. I don't want to be here. I want to die."

I didn't even have to ask him what happened. 

I got him to come down with me and we just kind of stood there. Ryan was a little unsteady so he was leaning on the trunk, eyes shut. "I messed up, Dan," He said.

I gently grabbed his arm and untied the bandana he tied around it. He had cuts, still stained with blood lining his arm. I kissed his wrist. He looked at me, and then I kissed him on the lips.

"You're going to be ok,"

 

By the time Ryan graduated, I already had my own place. I asked him to move in with me. He said yes.

He became a lot happier then. He had a full scholarship and basically had a free ride for four years. Now that he was out of high school, and out of that house, he was doing well. We were happy. And in love. 

 

After we were both out of college, he told me he wanted to move away. So we did. To LA. Ryan always told me he would love to live near the beach.A year passed, and then Ryan's dad got sick. He had a heart attack. Ryan hadn't spoken to his dad since he left home, and I didn't blame him. 

"I should go visit him, shouldn't I?" Ryan said after he got the call. 

"Probably."

So Ryan flew back to Las Vegas. He was only supposed to stay a few days, but he called me and said he was going to stay another week. And then the rest of the month. And then Ryan didn't know when he'd be back. And then Ryan stopped calling. I texted and called and left messages, all of which were ignored. For three days, I had no contact with Ryan. 

I got worried. I eventually called my mom who still lived in that same houuse. She said there had been an ambulance outside Ryan's dad's house a few days back. She didn't know why but promised to let me know if she found anything out. I told her to tell Ryan to call me if she saw him. 

Ryan finally did call me the next night. "Ryan, what the hell is going on?" I asked. "My mom said there was an ambulance in front of your house the other day."

"Acute liver failure," Ryan said. He sounded tired. "I've been at the hospital. Sorry I didn't call."

"It's ok, Ry, I just wanted to know you were ok."

"Dan, the doctor said he probably won't make it so I'm going to be home soon." He sounded so _blank._ That worried me. 

"Ryan, are you alright?"

"I thought when he had the heart attack, he'd change. But he's still the fucking same and- it's fucked up but I don't think I care if he dies or not.After all the bastard has done to me..."

Ryan's dad died the next day. Ryan texted me at noon to tell me and I got in my car and drove the five hours to Las Vegas. I went to the hospital first but the doctor told me Ryan had left hours before. I drove to his dad's house and banged on the door for about five minutes, calling his name. He didn't answer and I had an idea. 

I went around back to the wooded area. Sure enough, there he was. Sitting on that same branch he always did. The one he was on when we met over fifteen years before. He wasn't crying this time, but he did have his head leaning on the trunk. 

"He's dead," Ryan said when I stopped underneath the tree. I looked up. "He's dead and he can't hurt me anymore."

"Ryan-" I sighed. "Are you really going to make me clmb all the way up there? Getting to old, Ry." He snorted out a laugh. I grabbed a branch and hoisted myself up. I sat under him and looked around. Neither of us spoke for a really long time. 

"Weird," He commented after a long silence. "I used to spend so much time in this tree. This is where we met."

"You always loved this tree,"

"He never could get to me up here," Ryan murmured. "I felt... invinsible. I remember sitting here and dreaming of getting away. And I did." He smiled a little as a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. "And now I'm back and my dad's dead and I can't remember one time he told me he loved me. I fucking hated him. I hated him and I can't even bring myself to feel sad that he's gone."

The sun was starting to set. The sky was a mix of purples and oranges. It was windy out, making the hot sticky air a bit more comfortable. Ryan's eyes were still big and sad, like the way they were when we first met. 

We stayed in the tree until the sun disapeared behind the houses and then I convinced Ryan to come with me to my mom's house. I knew he wouldn't want to stay at his dad's. 

We lingered at the bottom of the tree for a while, staring up at all the leaves and branches. We made a lot of memoires here. 

I looked at Ryan. The Ryan I met here when I was nine and he was seven. The Ryan I kissed for the first time here when I was eighteen and he was sixteen. Ryan, the Ryan I fell so madly in love with. 

"Will you marry me?" I asked. He smiled, but didn't look away from the tree. 

"Yes."


End file.
